


Them's The Breaks

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst and Smut, Barebacking, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Avengers (2012), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: A few days after Steve wakes up in the 21st century, Darcy barges into his gym.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 38
Kudos: 364





	Them's The Breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahbeniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahbeniel/gifts).



> Is this fic high brow? Low brow? NO BROW? Who cares, because I don't.
> 
> sarahbeniel: **Panting, sweaty Steve at the punching bag: Instead of Fury being the one he's looking at with that "I kinda wanna kill you right now" look, it's Darcy. Maybe they had a fight or something and she's come to (apologize? continue it?), or maybe they aren't even lovers yet, and this is the turning point in an enemies-to-something situation. Either way, his response, of course, is to rail her right there in the gym...**
> 
> Thank you for the prompt, I love youuuuuuuuuuuuuu ❤

It turned out that Steve Rogers was kind of a jerk.

Darcy knew people shouldn’t judge others on first impressions, in fact, she kind of counted out on it. She had plenty of bad first dates, first days at work, mortifying job interviews, regrettable summer camps growing up… her list was impressive in terms of poor introductions.

She’d like to think that Steve’s abrasiveness was just a bad week he was having, since she’d seen some of the news reels in history classes at school. He was a good-natured guy, and he’d woken up from the ice to find everyone and everything he’d known gone.

When she showed up at the gym he was working out in at eleven o’clock at night, she knew something was off. No-one would blame Steve for that, since everyone thought he was dead up until a few days prior.

She wasn’t sure if you could call this an actual gym. It was a bare-looking loft with old-fashioned ceiling lamps and poor ventilation in a rundown tenement in Brooklyn. It was exactly as old as Steve’s own digs had been, if Darcy’s calculations were correct. She knew sooner or later it would be converted into a fancy yuppie apartment penthouse, but according to Fury, this wasn’t to be touched by locals.

The door was unlocked but she knocked on it to warn him that she was there, stepping in as she could hear smacks every couple seconds on the other side of the floor. She stopped when the figure in front of the swinging punching bag went still, turning around to look at her.

“You didn’t wait for me to say ‘come in’,” he said, and Darcy felt her face fall significantly, realizing her mistake.

She had been warned about him running through Times Square after the SHIELD agent tried to gently coax him awake.

She closed her eyes briefly, ducking her head.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” she said, walking toward him.

He put up a hand when she was several feet away, and she went still.

“I’m gonna need some kind of identification,” he said, his eyes scanning her.

She supposed a real enemy trying to disguise themselves would make their appearance seem non-threatening, but she’d argue her attire would be laying on that narrative a little too much. She’d had these same boots on for three days, and her _Gremlins_ t-shirt on it matched her fluffy cardigan. She couldn’t hide a weapon on her in this outfit, at least not easily.

Her hand moved from her side slowly to her bag, where she unearthed her pass for Stark Tower. Her picture wasn’t flattering, her washed out portrait made her look frizzy and anemic.

“Darcy Lewis,” she said, as if he could have trouble reading, and his eyes met hers again, blinking. “I was sent by Fury –”

Steve turned his back on her, raising a fist to jab the punching bag.

“What does he want?”

“Temperature check,” Darcy said, feeling a little irritation begin to rise despite the empathy she initially felt for this guy.

Her eyes dipped to his ass and she blinked, pressing her lips together. She liked to admire a round butt when she saw one, but she needed to have a sliver of decorum for once.

“It’s two minutes of your time, tops,” she added. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Seems like a long way to go,” Steve replied, not looking behind him.

He gave the bag several sharp jabs and Darcy stepped around to catch his eye again, taking hold of the bag. He frowned down at her, sweat pouring.

“So you can understand why I’d rather get this over with now,” she said.

He stopped, a puff of breath escaping, and Darcy felt examined again, his eyes dropping to her t-shirt for a microsecond before he glanced away, carding a hand through his hair.

“You don’t seem like an agent.”

“I’m not,” Darcy said, not taking it to heart. She opened her bag again to retrieve the electronic thermometer, pressing a button that made it beep and activate.

It was a small laser one that Fury handed her that morning, telling her it was a job he’d assigned her personally.

“I’m an intern,” she said, aiming the laser toward him, the red dot landing on his glistening forehead. “And I was told we have to check that the serum is still working. Your body’s not used to all the germs of this century, so…”

His eyes settled on her machine as they waited ten seconds in silence. It beeped again.

“98.6,” Darcy read, then gave him a little smile. “Perfect. No fever means no need to worry about your immune system so far.”

He didn’t return her smile, instead watched her put the thermometer away with his jaw ticking. Darcy knew he’d be a little sensitive about her barging into his personal space, but she figured it was important for someone to check on him regardless.

He seemed… grumpy.

He went back to his punching bag, moving with fierce efficiency. Darcy stepped away, turning her heel to leave.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, and he stopped, the bag swinging.

She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Same time? Unless you’d rather me come during daylight hours,” she said.

“I’d rather you didn’t come at all,” he admitted, and Darcy shrugged a shoulder.

“Them’s the breaks,” she said, and he looked away, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I got that,” he muttered.

She walked back out into the night, wishing there was something more substantial she could have left him with, but she remembered it wasn’t her job to counsel him.

-

It turned out he’d refused it anyway, when Darcy brought it up with Fury the following afternoon. She’d been out at eleven last night because Steve was known for taking long days out in the city, and his only consistency was the gym.

It wasn’t her fault Steve hadn’t left her mind all night and all morning. He was the epitome of extraordinary circumstances. There was a time when Darcy, and many other people, had believed that Captain America was only a larger than life character, and not someone who was real.

There’d been the theory that he died many times during the war, and that he’d never been one person, but several different incarnations. It made more sense that way, in their world that grew larger and larger.

Then Thor came crashing to Earth, after Tony Stark told the world he was Iron Man, and everything picked up sped at an astounding rate.

“He’s…” Darcy said, trying to think of the right word to convey exactly how Steve seemed to her.

His eyes gave him away. There was hurt, walls built high, apprehension. She let out a sigh, her eyes drifting around Fury’s office. She was sitting in a chair in front of his desk while he stood by the window, watching Manhattan.

“Sir?” Darcy said eventually, unsure of what else to do.

He stepped away.

“Keep seeing him, check on him. We appreciate your help,” he said.

“I don’t mean to question your choices exactly, except –”

“Why you?” Fury cut in, and Darcy nodded. “Because you’re not an agent.”

“You guys did do a number on him,” Darcy said, unable to help herself. She stood up from her seat, picking up her bag. “Whose idea was it to use the radio?”

Fury’s brow lifted slightly and Darcy shrugged.

“Shit gets around, even to lowly interns such as myself,” she said, a small forming.

“Then what would you have done?” Fury asked, his tone sharper.

“I wouldn’t have lied to him.”

Fury began to laugh and Darcy stared at him, but he didn’t explain what was so funny. She knew not every decision made was Fury’s, but even he had to admit that it was a rookie mistake, adding a baseball game on the radio for realism.

“Did anyone get fired for that?” Darcy added, when he’d sobered.

He gave her a long look and Darcy thought about how she’d agreed to come to New York under the pretence that SHIELD was watching her anyway, so she may as well make the most of things.

She wasn’t a fan of the organization, to put it mildly, and they hadn’t started paying her.

“What if he starts avoiding me, too?” she said, changing tack. “Since he’s already expressed a lack of trust in you folks.”

 _Rightfully so_ , she wished to add, but didn’t.

“He won’t,” Fury said.

-

She arrived at the gym that night, after spending most of her day reading about the Allies in Europe than helping Jane out.

This little assignment she was on for Fury wasn’t going to make her lose any more sleep. She was going to make it work, quickly, to make it as painless as possible.

She knocked, waited, and heard nothing, so she opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

“Two minutes,” she called, and she saw he was in the same place he was in last night.

He didn’t turn around to acknowledge her and Darcy figured she’d get the thermometer ready, taking it out of her bag as she walked over to him.

“Look, I know it’s not ideal –”

He spun around and Darcy stopped dead, her eyes widening as he glared at her.

“No goddamn manners from any of you people,” he snapped, and Darcy felt her cheeks instantly heat. “I signed something today agreeing I wouldn’t ever donate my blood or sign up for organ donation, since I belong to the State –”

“What?” Darcy breathed, and he moved past her, grabbing some papers from a stool by the wall.

“So, here,” he said, shoving the papers into her arms, and Darcy caught them, bewildered. “Take them back to Fury. I consent to my body not being mine. If they wanna perform a lobotomy, that’ll take more persuasion.”

He went back to the punching bag and set to work, while Darcy stared down at the papers, seeing he’d signed and dated it at the bottom. Darcy bent the wad of papers as she balled her hands into fists.

“I don’t know you, pal,” she began, her voice rising. “But you sure as shit can’t talk to me like that. I am not your enemy here. I’m on your side.”

He let out a mirthless laugh, turning around.

“Okay.”

She sunk to the floor to pick up her thermometer that he’d made her drop, turning it on. She stood up, approaching him, lifting the laser to his forehead.

“98.6,” Steve said, before she had a chance to, and Darcy grit her teeth.

“I stuck my neck out for you today,” she hissed, raising a finger. “I told Fury he’d fucked up. Not that you’d care, or listen to me about it. I’m just some dumb skirt stuck with –”

She felt her heart leap into her throat as he moved toward her, grabbing her by the waist to pull her flush against him, his lips sealing over her mouth, and Darcy dropped the thermometer once more, the device clattering on the floor as Steve’s tongue slipped between her lips.

Their mouths met in the middle as Darcy tilted her head, pushing back against him, his knee between her thighs, their feet stumbling…

When they sunk to the floor, Steve pulled back, his eyes dark and his lips pink and wet. He licked them, beginning to falter.

“I’m sorry –”

“I don’t believe you for a second,” she retorted instantly, because she knew hunger when she felt it, and he wanted her in that moment, among his anger.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured, rough with fresh heat, his eyes falling to her lips, and then he kissed her again, open-mouthed and consuming, Darcy’s moan muffled as he tugged at her leggings.

They tussled, Darcy’s pants and underwear down, hanging off one of her boots, as her hand shoved down the front of his pants. He was kissing her like he was trying to suck the breath out of her, all desperate and messy, and she couldn’t wrap her head around it all enough to pull back.

She didn’t want to think about this at all, and neither did Steve by how he took hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head, pushing inside her without hesitation.

He bucked into her hard and slow, pulling back from her mouth to look her in the eye, and Darcy was overwhelmed, everything about him was so intense.

This guy was hurting, not that it took him fucking her into the ground to realize that.

A week ago, he was in an entirely different world.

Darcy gave a whimper as he sped up his thrusts, hearing them smack together, her legs wrapped around his middle. He was fucking her like he was mad at her, which she supposed he was. He kissed her like he wanted to bruise, their teeth clacking as he slipped a hand down her front, pressing his fingers to her clit and grinding.

Darcy could feel she was close, trying to gain purchase, tightening around him instinctively, his eyes watching her so intently.

She shut her eyes finally, lifting her hips as she groaned, feeling the pleasure crest over her as Steve grunted, feeling her clench around him. Her thighs began to shake and she let out a weak laugh, feeling sweat break out all over.

She blinked up at him, realizing her wrists were free and she sighed, passing a hand over her face, Steve’s thrusts slowing.

He seemed to be coming back to himself, his chest heaving as he hovered above her.

She didn’t think she had dignity anymore, with how he’d ripped the orgasm out of her, her whole body still shivering from it, but he took hold of her jaw, studying her.

“I don’t usually do this,” he murmured, and Darcy nodded, lifting up to kiss him on the lips.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know…”

He buried his face in her neck, cuddling her as he began to move faster once more, with less precision as before, his panting breaths filling their silence.

As he began to lose his composure, he drove into her without reprieve, and all Darcy could do was cling on for dear life, taking every bit of his force, crying out with each thrust, her nails biting into his back.

“Ah, fuck –”

He pulled out of her at the last second, spilling onto her stomach with his forehead pressed into hers, both of them sticky, and Darcy’s legs dropped from his middle to the floor as they panted together.

He stayed there for some time, and Darcy lifted a hand to stroke the side of his face, wondering what he was thinking, and whether he’d be able to look her in the eye after what they’d done.

He finally gave a sigh and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling like Darcy was.

Darcy winced as she sat up, her back and rear feeling stiff from the hard floor. She wiped some of the sweat from her face, wondering if she had anything to clean up in her bag.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked, and then looked back down at him. “Steve?”

He seemed to be elsewhere but returned when she said his name out loud.

“You wanna get a cup of coffee?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

Darcy blinked at him a couple times before she remembered to reply.

“Uh, sure,” she said. She felt her lips quirk. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

And then he gave her a wry little smile.

“I usually do this all the other way around,” he said, sitting up. “Dinner and then –”

“A tumble?” Darcy finished, and he ducked his head, chuckling.

“Yeah,” he said. He cleared his throat, slipping a hand into hers. “Except you’ll have to find us a place, I wouldn’t have a clue.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
